


A Matter of Practice

by quamquam20



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Creampie, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Femdom, Femsub, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Leashes, Naked Female Clothed Male, Not Canon Compliant, Orgasm Denial, Power Exchange, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Spit Kink, Switching, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25310026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quamquam20/pseuds/quamquam20
Summary: After plenty of practice, they both know their places. And they know when to switch.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 65
Kudos: 253





	A Matter of Practice

It doesn't always happen in their bedroom.

Sometimes he'll catch her in the workshop, grease-smudged and grit-covered. Or right before she steps into the shower, soaked with sweat from training, and that's his favorite because she hasn't had the chance to wash off the inebriating smell of her yet. Or, like now, interrupted when she's walking—hips swinging in those tight pants he can't resist peeling off of her—in one of the wide hallways that connect the living area with breathtaking views of peaked mountains that drop sharply into the blue sea.

But Ben couldn't care less about what's going on outside. He doesn't see the afternoon sun sparkling on the water, or the lush trees swaying in the wind. Not when he's staring down at her, naked at his feet.

He's at the back of her throat, hand fisted in her loose hair as he fucks himself with her open mouth. The hallway's quiet except for the hollow, wet sound of him thrusting so far back that he's practically in her neck; then the coughing, choking gag that flexes around his cock. He lets Rey pull off, tears running down her cheeks—involuntary from the hard gagging but it still makes his cock pulse. Thick, dripping lines of spit gleam and she tries to wipe them off on her shoulder, handcuffs keeping her arms behind her, but he pushes back in before she can clean anything up. She looks so sloppy and used and, when he twists her head to the side so he can glide the head of his cock across one tensing side of her throat, a bit scared. He gives her cheek a gentle slap, more of a pat to bring her back to him. He's not like that anymore—he just acts like it because it gets them both off.

“What are scavengers good for?” He asks it like it's a test and they've been studying; she already knows the answer. He drags her head back so she can speak, her jaw stretched out and her voice raspy.

“Fucking.”

“Open your mouth.”

She does and Ben spits into it, aiming so it hits as far back as he can get. He's plunging into her again, and she likes being told what to do. At least like this. He likes it too, but it's her turn. Rey is wriggling, trying to get out of the cuffs without him noticing, and that secret struggling always gets him harder.

“That's for after,” he says. “You can touch yourself after I'm done.”

She makes a whimpering sound, but it's blocked by his cock. He steps forward, just enough to bring his leg close to her, the leather of his boot's shaft pressing against her.

“Spread.”

She does, her knees digging into the floor to grind herself against his shin. She's earned a little, for the way she's looking up at him and swallowing to tighten. But once she gets a taste, that desert-deep shameless greed takes over and she'll ignore the rules to ransack while she thinks he's distracted. And, as predicted, Rey is losing focus, her eyes closing in a way he knows well. He pulls out of her, completely away from her. Practically growling with frustration, she bucks into the empty air.

“Did I say you could come?”

She shakes her head, but he knows that defiant tilt of her chin. If he doesn't keep an orgasm dangling in front of her, she won't listen.

“Just your lips,” he says.

He guides her head: no pushing this time. She kisses, lips soft and swollen and glistening from how he's been using her. He carefully gathers her hair to keep it out of her face. Brushes his hand over her cheek, cradling. After all the ramming and roughness, he thought he'd be numb to this, but the change—an easy and tormenting slowness—is going to make him come.

He's transfixed.

“Just like that,” he whispers, leaning to watch. She's making quiet noises, rubbing his cock across her mouth, then a gentle sucking. When she moans, it vibrates through him, hot and buzzing.

He comes hard, a shudder and an aching gasp that barely gets out between the crashing surges. When he's done, she knows to let it dribble out of her mouth so he can smear it where ever he wants. She spits the last of it back out onto his cock and he paints it over her bottom lip with a final shiver.

Ben pulls her to her feet, up to him. Releases her from the handcuffs and before she can feel lightheaded or tingly from holding her position for so long, he pins her against him, her back to him so she won't fall. His hand goes to her, dipping between her legs and Rey is already collapsing, her legs giving out. She's going to come for him. He drops his head slightly and listens because the way she lets go is his favorite part of _all_ of this. She bares her teeth, arches against him, all wild and artless ferocity. Her orgasms take her whole body and he's the lucky one, just to get to see it. When she stills in his arms, panting, he stays with her, sways her back and forth as she drifts back down.

“I'm hungry.”

Above her, Ben smiles. She always says this after, and there's always food. She'll want a nap, too, or at least to burrow under the blankets of their bed for a while with him.

He kisses her, the hint of his own come beneath the watery aliveness of her.

* * *

When it's her turn, she likes their bedroom. It's indulgently comfortable, warm and enveloping and familiar.

Rey bends over, spreading herself, and he knows to lick all of it. If he misses a spot, he has to start over and he won't get to come. She steers him with an unseen tether that only they can feel, loose around his neck until she needs more. With a sharp pull, his face is buried in her, his soft lips moving and his breath hot.

She can hear him jerking off, the rhythmic brush of skin and the way his exhales start to catch into moans. She'll let him get close because the way he glares at her when she makes him stop is fuckable. Pace faltering, he's getting there. She releases him—the signal for him to stand, completely motionless, arms at his sides.

It's a kind of euphoria, when she turns around and his eyes are flashing—like deep down, he wants to throw her onto the bed and do whatever will make him come the fastest. Instead, he has to wait while Rey circles him slowly, runs her hands through his hair and scrapes her nails lightly down his back. Fakes an orgasm in his ear while his cock drips, even though he knows it's not real; sucks Ben's fingers, then pushes them into her. She never hurts him here—just lets the agony build up on its own by touching everything but his cock. If she could, she'd give it to her past self: gorging on the perfect feeling of him.

And finally, when she's ready, Rey drags him to the floor, or pushes him up against the wall, or brings him to his knees, and fucks herself with him. And, for a little while, he gets to be nobody, too. Because right now, lying flat on their bedroom floor, he is nothing but a thick hardness that she can drop down onto as many times as she needs.

“What's your name?” she asks, catching his face in her hand and giving a little shake while she rides him slowly.

He groans and she knows this is what he really likes. He's struggling to stay still—she can feel his legs tensing beneath her. But he behaves: he doesn't thrust up into her, and he doesn't give a name.

Rey leans down to whisper.

“That's right. Very good.”

He shivers at the word.

_Good._

Rey wiggles her hips and he's so far in her. She clenches and, in response, gets that sharp inhale between his teeth that makes her melt.

“And if you're good, where do you get to come?”

“Inside.” She watches his fists clenching next to him. He knows the rules. “Fuck, please.”

She keeps him in deep and stills her hips, fingers rolling fast over her clit. When she comes like this, gripping around his cock but not giving him any of the sliding he wants, he can only watch. And she comes hard, clamping her thighs and making exactly the sounds she needs to when she lets go. She can never stop herself from rocking, though, and sometimes he's shaking with the effort of not coming. Like now.

Quickly, she pulls off of him and stands up. She might walk away. She might even leave the room. But today, she just stands over his head, legs spread wide enough for him to see how she got herself off with the nameless cock on the floor and her fingers. She spreads her lips, shows him how wet and red and fucked she is.

“Rey, I can't—”

“Yes, you can.”

He's having a difficult time, though. His cock is pulsing and he's at that glassy-eyed, stomach-tightening stage, and a few drops slide from the tip before he can control it. She watches him struggle, her face impassive.

“Looks like someone's trying to be good.” Distant; observational. But when she looks down at him, at the concentration and the effort, she feels profoundly loved.

She moves again, smooth and certain, repositioning herself.

“Thank you.” He's mumbling it over and over, and he hasn't even come yet but it won't be long.

Rey slides him back in. It's supposed to be a reward for him, but the sound he makes is the prize—she gets a shout and then a hiss out of him, and a thrust or two later, a gasping groan when he comes. He knows he can't touch her, so, while his entire body grinds with it, he digs his fingers into the woven rug beneath him. She's sensitive after her orgasm, and it makes his reaction even better, and she lets his hips snap up to unload deep in her.

Sweating, Rey lays down on him when it's over; his arms wrap strong around her. He kisses the top of her head, nuzzling past the unruly wisps that escaped her bun, and she smiles up at him.

“Who taught you to be so mean?” he asks lightly, still catching his breath.

“Did you want me to be mean?” Rey shrugs against his chest. “I could try that next time.”

Ben laughs, a loud and full sound that always makes her heart trip. He hugs his arms closer around her.

“Love you,” she says, tracing the bridge of his nose and wondering if she'll ever forget that she knew him long before she met him.

“I love you too.”

Eventually, Rey disentangles herself and rises unsteadily.

“Shower?” she asks.

He likes to shower together after, and she suspects it's mostly an excuse to touch her more.

She doesn't mind. She wants to keep touching him, too.

Later, they'll drift off smelling like soap and night ocean air.


End file.
